


Healing

by atributetotheclassicmovies



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-09
Updated: 2016-10-09
Packaged: 2018-08-20 12:02:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8248060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atributetotheclassicmovies/pseuds/atributetotheclassicmovies
Summary: Recovering might be a long way, but they will always have each other.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for the wonderful and sexy David gifs, which inspired this story! I hope you enjoy :)

“Still hurt a lot?” Napoleon asked as he carefully cleaned up a nasty cut on Illya’s back, located just couple inches above his hips. 

“No.” Illya murmured. 

Napoleon knew he was lying. He could see Illya’s brows furrowed as he answered. Illya looked into the mirror beside them as his partner started to bandage it up, and he smoothed his fingers lightly over the surface. 

“All done now.” 

“Thanks.” Illya smiled at Napoleon as their eyes met in the mirror. 

Napoleon could not resist the temptation of putting his arms around Illya’s waist, since he looked so sexy in his shorts. He pulled Illya in, cautious of the newly bandaged wound. 

His lips brushed over Illya’s ear and he whispered. “Don’t try to be a hero next time, ok?” 

Illya turned back to him, looking slightly annoyed. 

“If you’re not such a clumsy fool, I won’t need to…” 

Napoleon stopped him with a slow and sensual kiss. He saw Illya’s piercing blue eyes lit up with desire and passion as their lips parted. Napoleon was sure he saw the same in his eyes. Illya turned his body until they were face to face, and their bodies pressed against each other’s. The kisses became deeper and hungrier as they eagerly explored the warm and wet territories. Napoleon’s hand slid down into Illya’s shorts, feeling the soft flesh in his palm. 

“Let’s... take this to bed.” Napoleon struggled for words under heavy panting as they stumbled into the bedroom.

......

Something awakened Napoleon and he automatically reached for his gun under the pillow. He looked around, slightly confused by the fact that there was no sign of danger. Beside him, Illya was sleeping on his side, facing him, breathing evenly. Napoleon let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding and put the gun back. It was only 6 am. He lay down and tried to catch some more sleep, but that something kept him wide awake. With the faintest light coming in from the shuttered blinds, he could make out the lines of Illya’s face. They were unique, beautiful, and full of personalities. Full of Illya. 

Napoleon looked at him affectionately as his glance slowly descended to Illya’s bare chest. There was a long, mad scar right on top of his left nipple. Napoleon did not know the exact reason, but his finger reached for it and touched the slightly uneven surface. The memory of it still haunted him. The doctor said it was a miracle that Illya was still alive after being brutally stabbed in the chest by a THRUSH agent, but he was in critical condition for two weeks before he regained consciousness. Napoleon could not believe he actually got through those horrifying fourteen days, not knowing whether he could see his partner ever again. He lost his appetite, his sleep, and almost all of his hopes. The trauma was so deep that even after Illya was released from the hospital, he still broke out in sweats at the middle of the night, screaming Illya’s name. It took him five whole minutes to figure out his Illya was safe and sound beside him, not the one covered with blood, lying limply in his arms. 

He always felt bad afterwards for waking Illya up, but Illya never showed a slight hint of annoyance and he never asked what he had dreamed about. He would prop himself up with one elbow and looked at him with wild blue eyes. A faint smile would soon emerge and he would extend his arms and pulled Napoleon in. Then he would sing that same Russian lullaby, softly. Napoleon never had a chance to listen till the end, because he always fell asleep before Illya finished singing. It took him one full week to finally get over that nightmare.

But tracing that scar unexpectedly stirred up that same old emotion again, which he so desperately tried to suppress. He was so afraid to lose him. Napoleon felt his eyes watering, unaware that Illya was watching him. 

“Napoleon?” 

Napoleon jumped and tried to respond in an even tone. “I’m sorry, did I wake you up?” 

Illya shook his head, his eyes full of concern. Napoleon sat up abruptly, his back facing Illya. He didn’t want him to see the tears in his eyes. 

“I need to use the bathroom.” 

Napoleon thought of it as an excuse, but his legs disobeyed. He just sat on the edge of the bed, breathing in deeply and trying to compose himself. 

“Napoleon.” Illya said softly. 

Napoleon wept off his tears roughly with the back of his hand and looked back at him. “Yeah?” 

Illya was supporting his head with an elbow and looked up at him with a slight smile. 

“Come here.” Illya held out his arms and pulled Napoleon back until his head rested nicely on Illya’s chest. 

He could feel the even movements of Illya’s chest and his warm breath right above his head. Illya rocked him gently as the familiar Russian lullaby sounded in Napoleon’s ears. He closed his eyes. It would be alright. 

_Everything would be alright._

 

\- The End -


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